


Sincerities

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Lessons To Be Learned [15]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: AMAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Angst, Bloodhound Headcanons (Apex Legends), Burns, Caregiver, Caretaking, Coma, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mirage | Elliott Witt is a Mess, Nonbinary Character, Other, Possessive Behavior, Sad Mirage | Elliott Witt, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, hand kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: Elliott must decide what will happen to Bloodhound, and also takes things very literally.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: Lessons To Be Learned [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1330520
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48





	Sincerities

**Author's Note:**

> whaddupwhaddup i'm back bitches have some quarantine reading material

As the sensation began to creep back into his body, Elliott did his best not to panic. He was under a pile of heavy sheets, suffocating him with a heat that did nothing to improve his drowsiness. He’d been laying there for what felt like hours, slowly trying to regain control of his body. Whatever they’d given him in the canyon was either incredibly strong, or they were giving him something continuously with an IV. He could feel the needle in the back of his hand, sitting uncomfortably under the skin. 

The thing that had given his location away was the smell. It was sterile, the unmistakable scent of both the sickly and disinfectant permeating through the air. He’d always hated hospitals, something about the way the staff carried themselves just made him uneasy. The nurses would put on a fake cheer while the doctors droned on about symptoms and pain management, any real sympathy long since torn away from them. Hound had sent him to the hospital multiple times now, and he’d been miserable for every second of it. The stitches in his side had been awful, but not quite as bad as the questions the doctors tended to ask. He understood  _ why _ they needed to be asked, but he hated the looks of pity when they did. With their first encounter even after the phoenix kit he’d had trouble walking, and while the rules of the game didn’t allow sexual violence, there were rumors of the cleanup crews finding bodies in rather undignified positions anyways. The games weren’t exactly wholesome family fun, but apparently the organizers drew the line at humiliating someone to that extent before they died. Hound had been lucky to find a spot where the camera’s didn’t reach, which was something that still bothered him if he thought too much.

Thinking was all he’d been able to do. His hearing had come back a little while ago, and he could hear shoes scuffing on the floor every now and again when they’d come to check up on his vitals. He’d never taken anything recreationally that had knocked him out like that, and with no way of knowing how long he’d been out, he started to grow anxious. His eyes had been stuck to his eyelids until he first managed to open them, but he’d been greeted by nothing but an empty room, stark white walls and baby blue bed sheets. He hadn’t been able to keep them open for very long, head lolling to the side and he’d lost consciousness fairly soon after. He could twitch his fingers and the muscles on his face, but there wasn’t much else. 

All that time trapped in his own head was a special kind of torment. It reminded him of his time in their basement, only this time he couldn’t even beg for them to come and save him. He would have given anything to be able to, because on some level he knew that if he called, they’d eventually find some way to come and get him. He knew he’d done the right thing in fighting back the medical team, but a little voice in the back of his mind wished he’d just taken the bullet instead of them. Hound always knew what to do, so there’d be no hesitation in their actions. If they left him, they’d eventually come back, something he was certain of.

_ “ _ _ I will find you wherever you go.” _

Hound had wanted to leave Anita behind, but there was something that told him it would be different if he had taken the bullet. Whether it was truth or wishful thinking, it didn’t matter. It was a comforting thought, something that he found strange. Initially those words had terrified him, when they were spoken while he was on his knees sobbing from the pain of broken ribs in an alleyway. It was oppressive, an unnerving reminder that there was no escape for him. If they wanted to leave him tied up in a dark room, he couldn’t say no. Now, however, they left him with a strange feeling in his chest. It didn’t matter when or how, if he needed them, they’d come. They’d show up at the last second like they did in the arena, once again snatching him back from the reaper’s clutches. 

They’d probably be annoyed with him, but Hound scolding him was better than their absence, because at least it meant they were around. They still found him worthy of their attention, and although he’d prefer a gentle night of them falling asleep on him after they’d finally stopped shivering, he’d take a kick to the head over nothing. A slap was their version of a soothing hand on his cheek, and tasting his blood in their mouth was their shared nirvana. He understood that from the outside it didn’t look the best, but it was because they hadn’t gotten to be around them for as long as he had. No one else had gotten to see the person behind the beast, and although he hadn’t seen all of it, it was worth sticking around for. 

He had a bit of energy now that he’d spent an eternity waiting around in bed. Focusing the dregs of it at his eyes, he forced them back open and tried to keep his head steady, knowing that if he let it fall back, he’d have to start all over again. He’d rested for long enough now that he could move his neck a little bit too, letting him look around the room to keep himself busy. 

He’d apparently been lucky enough to score a private room, though it was far from luxurious. A simple, wooden nightstand was next to his bed, barren of anything except a small glass of water. Depending on how much of the games ending had been televised, there was risk of a media frenzy, and he really didn’t feel up to being Mirage. His mouth was incredibly dry, and there was an acidic taste in the back of his throat that he couldn’t get rid of, so he tried to reach for the water, only to be met by the sound of metal clanking.

Confused, he looked back down to see that his wrists were bound by thick leather cuffs, secured to the sides of the hospital bed by small chains. He yanked his wrist as hard as he could, but there was no give in the chain and the leather was studerier than it looked. He wasn’t going anywhere until someone released him, a feeling that he was far too familiar with.

_ I need to stop waking up tied to beds like this. _

“Mr. Witt?”

Elliott looked up to see a nurse hovering in the doorway, watching him cautiously to make sure he wasn’t going to freak out and start screaming at her. “Yeah?”

His mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton and his head was spinning from the effort of trying to talk, but it felt good to have use of his body again. The more he used it, the more it felt like he could control it. She smiled and walked into the room, clipboard in hand. “You have a visitor, Mr. Witt. Are you okay to receive a guest?”

Elliott swallowed. There weren’t a ton of people who’d come to visit him, but if it had been Anita she’d probably have just shoved her way into the room so she could slap him upside the head, which he definitely deserved. If his last ditch effort to protect Hound had made the news, he could be certain a call from his mother would probably come at some point, if she didn’t show up to wring his neck first. He wasn’t sure if it would be better or worse than if Anita showed up. “Um, y-yeah sure. Bring them in.”

The nurse waved someone from the hall inside, stepping out of his way as he entered the room. He was in a  _ very _ nice looking suit, and carried a briefcase at his side. Elliott didn’t recognize him, but the attire suggested he was, or at least worked for, someone very important.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Witt.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow. “Who exactly are you?”

The man smiled, fake and failing to appear otherwise. It looked practiced, an attempt at being unassuming. “I’m a representative of the committee in charge of the legal proceedings with the Apex Games. I’m here to talk about the incidents that occured at the end of the last competition, as well as to discuss the situation in regards to Mx. Blo-”

“How are they?” he interrupted, suddenly filled with concern, “Did they take their mask off? Are they awake? Do they know what’s wrong with them?”

“Easy now, Mr. Witt,” he said, making a calming gesture with his hands, “Give me some time to explain. Bloodhound is fine. They’re being kept in a private room elsewhere in the hospital.”

“What about their mask?” he persisted, “Did the medics remove their mask?”

If the man was annoyed by the constant interruptions, he didn’t show it. “No, Mr. Witt. They tried to, but your…  _ insistence _ otherwise gave the legal team enough time to stop them.”

“Legal team?”

“Yes. Do you remember the paperwork we have you fill out before the competitions?”

“Not really,” he admitted, “I pretty much just signed where they told me too. But I don’t see-”

“Well you should have, because one of those papers indicates what you want to happen in the event you’re incapacitated and are unable to make decisions for yourself, and who receives power of attorney in the event of your death.”

“Power of what?”

He sighed, agitation already showing through. “Giving someone power of attorney means you are handing responsibility of your body over to someone else. Usually it would go to a spouse or a parent, but in Bloodhound’s case, they had specific instructions laid out in the event they were injured or killed.” 

“I don’t get why you’re telling me this. This sounds very conf… private.”

“Because, Mr. Witt, they requested their body go to you, and that if they were rendered unable to communicate, you would be in charge of making sure their ‘do not resuscitate’ clause was honored, and to be consulted in the event that they needed something like a blood transfusion or transplant.”

Time stopped suddenly, but somehow the room around him seemed to spin. It was an awful feeling of vertigo, and he was lucky he was already sitting down. Elliott was completely dumbfounded, but the man seemed intent on taking advantage of his silence before he could interrupt again.

“One of the other things they specifically requested was that their mask and clothing be left intact, and if any of their body was exposed, for it to be covered as soon as possible and left alone, as well as no photos to be taken of their body or autopsy to be performed, even if the death was ruled as being suspicious.” 

It felt as though someone had just upended a bucket of freezing water over his head. Try as he might, Elliott couldn’t think of a single reason why Hound would leave him in charge of something so serious. In the few times that Hound had mentioned anything in regards to their past life, he hadn’t heard a single thing about parents or friends that they had. As far as Elliott knew, aside from their bird, Bloodhound was alone. Their cabin being so isolated made him think that they simply preferred being alone, but there was something about it that was so heartbreaking. If Hound had died before they’d met, would there have even been anyone to take their body? Would their privacy had been violated post-mortem, pictures of their face sold to the highest bidder? It was hard to think clearly with whatever sedative they’d given him still in his system, but he was slightly grateful considering how abhorrent of an idea it was. 

“Why did they leave it to me?”

“I don’t know, that’s something you’ll have to ask them yourself.”

“Are they awake?” he asked, wringing the bedsheets in his hands.

“No, but that is the other thing I must ask you about.”

The man in the suit straightened himself. “Because the doctors are not allowed to remove any of their clothing, they haven’t been able to perform any kind of diagnostics or treat them beyond giving them a place to rest and making sure they’re still breathing. If you give permission, then they can do what they need to do, but otherwise no one can lay a finger on them, not even something as simple as an IV or to hook up a heart rate monitor. Members of the legal team have been accompanying the medical staff to ensure they don’t get curious.”

Elliott didn’t like having this kind of power. He didn’t feel responsible enough to quite literally have Hound’s fate dumped into his lap like this, especially when he barely had enough energy to sit upright. There  _ had _ to have been a better choice than him. They’d always been the decision maker, not him. He’d gotten used to their quiet existence together, one where he’d just have to do as he was told and get to live in relative peace. Hound didn’t even trust him enough to not blindfold him anytime they went to and from the cabin, let alone give him control over something like this. He’d fought so hard to keep their secret safe, but if it meant risking their life then he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. If he didn’t let the doctors touch them and they died, it would be his fault. If he did and it wasn’t what Hound wanted, they’d be furious beyond belief and he couldn’t handle them being angry with him. The stakes were far too high for his liking, but as usual, he didn’t really have a choice.

Hound was constantly correcting his mistakes, guiding him in the right direction whenever he messed up. It was reassuring to know that he had someone looking out for him, but at times like this their constant hovering was detrimental. For the second time that day, he would have given anything at that moment for Hound to just walk through the door and tell him what to do, the perfect thing to say so he wouldn’t fail them again. His failures were starting to add up lately, and now he’d gotten Hound in a very bad situation. If he and Anita had just been more careful like they always told him he needed to be, then it would have all been alright. It was his mess to clean up this time though, even if it was awful. 

“Do the doctors have any idea what’s wrong with them?”

“Well,” he began, “Based on the footage of what happened and the gun they were shot with, the doctors suspect a severe concussion, possibly a skull fracture, but they can’t be sure until they can examine them, which they need your permission to do.”

Elliott swallowed. They didn’t know about how the rest of Hound’s face was injured. He wasn’t entirely sure what the second injury was, but if he had to guess, it would be some kind of burn from the sun exposure. “How much could they do without undressing them?”

“Nothing. They are wearing far too much clothing for any kind of scan, and because they have no previous medical history, the doctors don’t want to risk them having some kind of underlying condition. To treat them properly, Bloodhound’s helmet would have to be removed.”

Elliott shook his head as emphatically as he could. “No, not an option.” 

The man looked at him sternly. “Mr. Witt. Bloodhound could be in serious trouble if the doctor’s don’t have the opportunity to examine them properly. The games board of directors can use the winning funds to pay for any treatment, along with offering to cover any extra-.”

“I said no,” he repeated. “No one gets to look at them, and you just told me that I have final say in what happens.” 

“The situation-”

“-Must be under some kind of control if they aren’t dead yet,” he finished. “I don’t give a shit what your committee or board wants, and clearly they don’t either because they left me in charge. You just don’t want to lose someone like them and have your viewership go down.” 

He was surprised at how serious his own voice was. He wasn’t a very dominant person in any kind of situation, but he’d been given a new chance to protect them. This was his opportunity to redeem himself, and he was going to take full advantage of it while he could. He couldn’t look at this as a burden, rather as a blessing from them. 

The man’s face darkened for a moment, but he composed himself again. “As you wish. If your mind's made up, then I don’t need to be here any longer.”

“Wait,” he interjected, “Can I see them first?”

He nodded. “I’ll ask a nurse if they can bring you to them.” 

__

The man, to his annoyance, stuck around as Elliott was wheeled over to a quieter section of the hospital. There were less nurses wandering the halls, and no patients other than himself were outside of their rooms. This looked to be the nicer wing, with brighter lights and without the constant dinging of the call bells. A sign hanging from the ceiling read “Palliative Care Ward'' in bold black letters, clueing Elliott into where he was going. The man had said Hound was okay, but the sign still felt foreboding. An end of life ward was the last place he wanted either one of them to be. 

Hound was being kept in a private room with security posted out front. Nurses couldn’t enter the room without an escort, but Elliott still didn’t like the idea of Hound being alone and completely defenseless. All it would take would be for someone to get a little curious and try to slip their mask off, snap a picture and plaster it all over the internet. The man had assured him that the security was hired by the Apex Games committee to ensure nothing like that would happen, but Elliott knew how tempting it could be and didn’t trust anyone else to resist that urge. 

He remembered what the urge felt like from when Hound hadn’t been able to get up out of bed. Having to help them put their mask on had been a particular kind of intimacy he’d never expected from them, but he doubted total strangers would have the decency to afford them their privacy. He was more than a little curious himself, but if Hound didn’t want to show him their face then he had to respect it. Elliott knew he would have been lying to himself if he said he didn’t desperately want to know, but he couldn’t betray their trust like that. All of this was proof that they on some level trusted him, and while it felt like an enormous burden, it also made his heart beat a bit faster. He chalked it up to nerves, but it didn’t make it any less annoying. 

The man stopped him in front of an unlabeled door and pushed it open. Inside was dark, with only the lights of an electric clock lighting up the room. The curtains had been drawn to block out as much of the daylight as possible, and the cold electric light from the LED’s in the hallway made it almost ghastly. 

Hound was laying on a bed, arms at their sides and staring straight up at the ceiling. All their gear looked intact, and even their muddy boots that were dirtying the sheets hadn’t been messed with. His scarf was still tied around their face, hiding whatever damage had been done to them. He could see their chest rising and falling, but it was faint enough that he hadn’t to keep checking so he could assure himself it wasn’t an illusion or trick of the light. 

The man paused at the door, but Elliott wasn’t satisfied with just a quick look. He grabbed the wheels of the chair and pushed himself forward, intent on reaching them. 

“Mr. Witt y-”

“Just give me a minute.”

His tone was sharp, but his concern for Hound outweighed his usual fear of seeming rude. He paused once he was next to the bed, giving himself a moment to take it all in. They seemed small, impossibly so, laid out on the bed. He placed his hand on top of theirs, feeling the worn leather under his fingertips. It felt cold to the touch, like their usual freezing temperature had started to leak out of them. 

Seeing them perfectly still in the bed was like an icicle being shoved into his heart. It was just wholly wrong to see them like this, his pillar of strength finally showing the cracks in its surface. Whether he’d been too blind to see them before, Elliott wasn’t quite sure. A part of him wanted to turn back around and demand to see the real Hound, since this body in bed couldn’t be the person he knew and cared so much about. They had to be some kind of a stand in. He knew a decoy when he saw one, and there was just no way in hell that this was them. 

They shouldn’t be laying in a sterile field like this. They should have been standing tall among the waist high ferns, quietly enjoying the cool night air like he’d caught them doing when they thought he was asleep in the cabin. Usually Artur would be perched on their shoulder, glaring at him with beady black eyes. For some reason the bird never seemed to trust him, but he would have given anything to have it squawking at him. It would have been something familiar in such an alien territory, and any kind of familiarity would have been wonderful. 

“They’re coming with me.”

Elliott didn’t know where the words came from, but he said them with determination. The man walked up behind him and put a hand on his wheelchair. “Mr. Witt, I don’t thi-”

Elliott glared up at him, putting his hand on Hound’s arm and squeezing it. “I said, they’re coming with me. I thought I had final say in what happened to them if they couldn’t make a decision?”

The man looked exasperated. “Yes, Mr. Witt, but please you must consider-”

“Then it’s settled. When I leave, they come with me. I’ll figure out a way to get them to my place and I’ll take care of them from there. They’ve refused any kind of treatment anyway, so what’s the harm in taking them home?”

“There is the matter of security. Here at the hospital we can have guards posted to protect them. Can you guarantee their safety? You’ve proven your dedication to your friend, but there’s still risk involved.”

Elliott thought for a moment. “How much of what happened was televised?”

He could see the man take a moment to compose himself before answering. “The camera’s were mostly focussed on your friend Miss Williams since she fired the game-winning bullet. They caught a glimpse of you running towards Mx. Bloodhound, but we interrupted the broadcast once you called for a medic. Normally drama is something that brings in viewers, but the security risk towards Hound if it was known that they were in this condition was much too great.”

“Nice to see you care so much about your contestants,” he deadpanned.

He failed to hide a scowl. “Our contestants are extremely valuable, Mr. Witt, and part of Mx. Bloodhound’s appeal is how many secrets they keep. Although there is another matter in regards to what is and what is not shown.”

Elliott gulped. “Excuse me?”

“After they were shot you dragged them away to a place where I assume you thought there were no cameras. The next shot that was shown to the audience was of you two embracing, and what appeared to be them whispering something to you. I don’t need to know the details of what it was and frankly I don’t care, but the cameras also picked up what appeared to be you two kissing. Due to the matter of privacy I mentioned earlier, we won’t release that bit of footage unless you give permission, as a bit of drama isn’t worth losing two of our best competitors. Before you ask, none of their face was shown because of the camera angle.” 

“Y-yeah, I-I’d rather that not get released.” 

He nodded. “I’ll inform the committee. The bit that was shown will hopefully distract people for a while. Mx. Bloodhound usually disappears after the games, so that at least won’t be strange.”

“What about me?” he asked, “I usually give interviews and whatnot. Won’t a lack of that bring up questions?”

“We can release a statement stating that you had to leave quickly for a personal family matter.”

Elliott nodded in agreement and turned back towards Hound. His hand still rested on their arm, though any second he was expecting them to wake up and swat it away. When they didn’t, he sighed. 

_ It’s my turn to keep you safe again. You came back for me, so I’m not going to leave you all alone. I promise.  _

___

Elliott sighed as he slid the deadbolt across his door into place, the loud clunking noise reverberating in the room. He turned and walked over to his bed where the transport team had laid Hound out. He’d been watching them all like a hawk, making sure none of their hands went too close to their face or tried to grab them anywhere. They’d left him with strict instructions not to jostle them around too much since they weren’t sure if there was any injury to their neck, but he didn’t plan on moving them. 

He hated the idea that Hound was fragile. He knew despite their protesting there was something seriously wrong with them, but he’d never had the courage to ask. Their conversation before they’d gone hunting still didn’t sit right with him. Flashes of it would pop up every now and again, just long enough to twist in his gut and make him uncomfortable.

_ “But why do some of us fall apart faster?” _

_ “Sometimes flesh feels more like a burden than a gift.” _

_ “They are a constant reminder that even I cannot keep doing this forever.” _

Was that what this was? Them beginning to falling apart? 

Elliott sighed and placed a hand on their mask. He needed to get some of their gear off so they wouldn’t sweat themselves to death or get bedsores, but the nurses had warned him it wasn’t easy. He decided to start with their boots so at least his sheets wouldn’t be covered in dried mud like the hospital bed had been. 

He frowned when he tried to pull on the knot and instead watched it get tighter. Leave it to Hound to make untying shoelaces a complicated thing that required his utmost focus. They’d double knotted it so they wouldn’t come undone, something that brought a small smile to his face. Saying Hound was weird didn’t quite cover it, but they definitely had some habits he didn’t fully understand. The big scary hunter that terrorized the area double knotted their laces and was a fiend for sugar, which was another thing that still made him shake his head. It was a miracle they didn’t have a mouth full of cavities for how much of it they ate. He’d caught them snacking on sugar cubes while they repaired their gear, popping them into their mouth while they muttered angrily as they wrestled with pesky wires.

Elliott pulled their boots off, trying not to disrupt their ankle braces in the process. It pleased him to see that they’d worn them like they were supposed to, even if they’d voiced how much they disliked doing so. It was nice to know that they were trying to take care of themself, even if he still found his concern for them strange sometimes. It was hard to forget that Hound had kidnapped him, but it felt like they’d grown past that now. He had a bit more freedom now, and the fact that Hound at least had some modicum of trust in him was reassuring. 

He frowned as he looked down at them. He had no idea of how he was going to get the rest of their clothes off, but he figured that Hound probably wouldn’t like the idea of waking up with no pants on anyway. The least he could do was undo some of their belts so it wouldn’t be sitting tightly across their chest. Their gloves and leather bracers could probably go too, and he’d need their hands bare if he wanted to check their circulation. The mask over their mouth needed to go too, so he could at least check and see if they were breathing. 

It took awhile to figure out the mask, but eventually the bottom popped off and dangled from the attached tubing. They looked ghastly, their lips dried and cracked. He placed their gloves on the bed beside them, piling the bracers on top so he could roll up their sleeves. The tubes posed an interesting challenge, as he had no idea how fragile they were. He’d never seen them break one, but the last thing he wanted to do was crack one or twist it out of place when they weren’t there to fix it. He had no idea what the fluid was, but he doubted it was just there for decoration. 

Elliott’s heart dropped when he saw their arms, decorated with their layers of scar tissue. He could help but run his finger along some of them, happy for the first time they weren’t awake. He’d thought of them often, trying to sneakily glance at them whenever Hound wore something without sleeves. They hadn’t given any indication that they’d noticed, but once he’d seen them he couldn’t look away. They filled his mind with questions that buzzed around noisily, refusing to be ignored. There was no way he could just ask them why they were there, especially not the biggest that ran straight down their forearm. On some level he was still convinced there was a rational explanation besides the obvious. 

They’d asked him if he’d known he was going to die if he could do it himself, if he was strong enough to wrench back control of his own life. Was that what they had tried to do? What could have happened to have put them into a situation like that? He’d lived with Hound for quite some time, but the person on the bed next to him was a stranger. A stranger with more secrets than he could have imagined, secrets that he didn’t want to have to accept possibly never finding out about. Letting things go had never been in his nature, especially when they belonged to someone as intriguing as Hound. 

_ CAW! _

Elliott nearly jumped out of his skin as a loud squawk pierced the air. He looked over at his balcony to see a raven perched on the railing, tapping its beak angrily against the glass. Puzzled, he tried to get a better look at the bird, but it was too busy pecking at the sliding door with zeal. 

“Jesus okay! The hell do you want?”

Afraid of it chipping the glass, Elliott slid the door open, intent on shooing the bird away. Instead, it zipped past him and into the apartment, landing on the foot of his bed. It squawked at him again, and he could have sworn the bird looked offended by something. Elliott glared at it, annoyed that a raven was giving him lip. The bird turned away from him in a huff and hopped onto one of Bloodhound’s feet, cocking its head as it examined their body. 

“Oh Artur, it’s you. I think. I hope.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow in confusion. If this really was Artur then it raised quite a few questions, like how the fuck had a raven managed to track him down? As far as he knew they weren’t trackers, but he swore the damn thing and Bloodhound had some kind of telepathic connection between them. One of the many things he’d observed was Hound talking to it, scratching its chest and laughing when it pecked them on their cheek. Artur liked to land on their head sometimes instead of their arm, and it had taken all of his self control not to burst out laughing. He didn’t want to imagine what kind of glare Hound would have shot him if he had, though he assumed it was similar to the one he gave Artur when the bird dropped blueberries on his head. He always did it when they weren’t looking, and he also swore the bird looked smug whenever he got away with it. 

Artur seemed content to ignore him for now, instead hopping off Bloodhound’s foot and walking up to their chest. He pecked at the remaining glass lens, and Elliott sighed. He had no idea what went on in that bird’s head, and he wasn't sure if Artur was trying to wake Hound up or if he wanted to eat them. Apparently it was neither, because the bird instead settled on their chest, looking up at him from their new nest. He tried to roll up Hound’s other sleeve, but Artur drove his beak into his knuckle.

"Ow!" He hissed, shaking out his hand, "that fucking hurt!"

Artur just blinked at him, before turning away and grooming his feathers. He could have sworn Artur was side eyeing him. Experimentally, Elliott reached out again towards their arm, this time managing to pull back and avoid getting pecked. 

_ Is he protecting them? _

Elliott had seen videos of ravens being trained to do tricks, but Artur may have as well been a dog. Remembering something else he'd heard, Elliott stared the raven down. "Want a cracker?"

Artur just blinked. Elliott rubbed his temples and sighed. "I'm talking to a bird. That's it, I've officially lost it. Hound, you’ve finally succeeded in driving me completely crazy. Hopefully you didn’t hear that." 

A loud ringing jolted him from his self pitying. His phone was buzzing on his table, but he hesitated before answering. If it was Anita, he really wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. What Hound had asked of him was inexcusable, but he hoped they could have that discussion when they were awake. Thinking of how angry they’d been when he refused made him shiver, but that was also a problem to be tackled later. Right now his phone was threatening to vibrate itself off of the table. 

He saved it at the last second, and raised an eyebrow. The caller ID said it was his mother, but she usually didn’t call unless she was worried about him. Even with dementia, somehow the maternal instinct always seemed to tell her when something was wrong. 

“Hey Mom,” he said, doing his best to not sound as tired as he was, “What’s up?”

“You don’t sound good,” she said, flatly. 

He sighed. “Aw c’mon, it’s me! I’m always fine, you know that!”

“Elliott my memory may be going, but I’m not stupid. You didn’t call me before your last match. Or after it.”

He winced when he could hear the amount of hurt in her voice. Her only condition to giving him the holo-tech gear was that he was to call her whenever he was competing, and to call her the minute the drop ship picked him up. He’d been so busy obsessing over whether or not Hound was going to beat him senseless that he hadn’t called his mother before the last game. “Oh my god I’m the worst son ever.”

She laughed. “No not quite, but you’re pretty up there. At least you’ve never forgotten my birthday, unlike your brother.” 

“Uh, mom?”

“Yes dear?”

“Brothers. Plural.”

“Oh.”

The silence on the other end of the line was tangible. 

“So um, w-why did you call? Aside from, y’know, me being terrible.”

“Oh, yes! I wanted to make sure you were okay, and also I wanted to ask if you’re still coming over for your birthday like we’d discussed.” 

“Wait, what day is it today?”

“Not today Elliott. Did Anita’s airstrike go off a little too close to you? She really needs to watch where she calls those things, although you were right in the middle of it. How is she, by the way?”

Elliott smiled. His mom always asked how Anita was, fussing over her the same as she did with him. They both enjoyed harassing him whenever he did something really stupid in the games, though as usual, he deserved it. 

“Anita’s fine. She’s tough as a leather boot so I don’t think a measly bullet could hurt her.”

“It sure put you out of commission. Several times, if I remember correctly.” 

“Hey! I got shot, you’re my mother, you’re supposed to be like, worried about me.” 

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “I am worried about you, but you’re the one who insisted on competing and it’s not like you’d listen to me anyway. You get your stubbornness from me though, so it’s not like I can complain much.”

“Ha, exactly! Your fault, not mine.”

She made a disapproving noise. “So, how’s your other friend?”

“Who?”

“Bloodhound, the one who got shot in the face. I know they came back at the end of the match and saved you, but they ended the broadcast a bit earlier than usual last time so I didn’t see if they did any interviews.” 

“Oh, y-yeah. T-they’re, um, t-they’re okay.”

“Elliott Noor Witt,” she said, warning creeping into her voice, “I can hear you stuttering. You’ve never been able to lie to me before, so don’t think you could start now.”

He sighed. She was right, there was no way he could lie to his mom about this, not when he sounded so exhausted that he could hear it in his own voice. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth, not anymore. He may have jumped at the opportunity weeks back, but now whatever feelings he had towards Hound had intensified and running away just wasn’t an option. He wasn’t going to turn his back on them, not after all of this.

“They’re not… they’re not doing great,” he admitted, “They’ve been sleeping since we left the hospital, but I don’t know when they’re going to wake up.”

“Well, do you remember when Elias got his concussion?”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, football, right?”

“Mhm. Other than keeping the lights low and the noise level down, there isn’t much you can do honey.”

“I think that something else might be wrong, too.”

Elliott gnawed at his lower lip, unsure of whether or not bringing it up with his mother was a wise idea. He  _ didn’t _ know if there was something else wrong for sure, but if the sun had caused them that much pain then there was probably something else wrong underneath. 

“What do you mean? Is the bullet lodged in their eye?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Shouldn’t they be in the hospital?”

“Probably,” he admitted, “But I couldn’t let them stay there. They refused treatment in the agreements they have us all sign, and it wasn’t safe for them there. Too many people who’d get curious, and I couldn’t have someone taking their mask off.” 

“Elliott, you’re a smart boy, but you’re not a doctor. If their eye especially is at risk, then-”

“I know, I know, it’s… it’s complicated, but they can’t be in a hospital. Just, trust me on this, okay? It’s really important to them.”

He heard her sigh. “Okay. If it’s not a bullet or some shrapnel, then what is it?”

“An armor piercing round,” he lied, “covered with some kind of incie… uh, flammable stuff. They think someone snuck them into the games. That’s actually why the broadcast got cut short.”

“It sounds like they’re lucky to be alive.” 

Elliott exhaled. He’d had to lie to his mother more times than he liked, but something about this being for Hound’s sake made it easier. She was certain he couldn’t lie to her, so she wouldn’t immediately doubt him. “Yeah, only thing that saved them was the angle of the bullet. Couple degrees to the right and it would have gone clean through.”

“Well, I’m no doctor, but considering they got shot in the side of the head, they might have burst an eardrum. Nothing you can do about that, but if their face got burned, you’ll need to keep it clean. An infection on their face is the last thing they need.”

“How the hell am I supposed to clean a wound I can’t see?”

“Watch it, mister.”

“Sorry.” 

His mom was another kind of normality that he’d been missing. She was always on his case for swearing too much, though she was usually more strict about it then Hound was. 

“You can’t really clean it properly, but you can put some ointment on the bandage to try keep it healthy. Not too much or you’ll suffocate it.” 

“Alright, didn’t even know that was something I’d had to worry about.”

“It’s okay, that’s why I’m here. Are they going to be okay?”

He paused. “Yeah, they’re tough too. All my friends are, actually. Sometimes I kinda feel like the odd man out.” 

“Oh sweetheart, you’re stronger than you know. You’ve just had a rough couple days. I’m sure your friend will thank you when they wake up.”

_ I hope so…  _

Still, the compliment made him smile. A part of him felt weak for still needing the reassurance of his mother at his age, but his mother wasn’t the kind of person to give them out too easily, so he knew it was sincere. “So, I’m still invited over for my birthday?”

“Of course you are! I didn’t know if maybe you had some kind of lady friend that was taking up all your time. Or someone else, I can’t keep up with you anymore.”

“Gee, you make me sound desperate.”

“Call it whatever you want dear, but I didn’t say anything.”

He could hear the smile on her face. It was nice that she still was, even though she was worried about him. “Yeah, I’ll be there for dinner.”

“Or you could come over earlier. You know, be a good son and visit your mother.”

He rolled his eyes. “Rub it in, why don’t you.”

“Bring your new friend, they’re more than welcome.”

“Bloodhound?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes! Anita is more than welcome too, as I’m sure she knows. I should give her a call too, I haven’t heard from her in a while.” 

Elliott tried to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to let Hound know that they’re welcome.”

“Okay then, well I should probably let you go. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

He was sad to hear her go, but he wasn’t sure how much he could talk about without risking spilling something important. He’d have to think up some kind of a cover story for all the time that he’d been gone, and get Anita to cover for him if his mom tried to find out more about what he’d been up to. “Okay, talk to you later then, mom.”

“Alright. Love you, son.”

“Love you too.”

He pressed the end call button and set the phone back down on the table. Elliott did his best to rub the sleep from his eyes, only succeeding in yawning into the back of his hand. Stressing out about Hound was really sapping his energy, but he didn’t want to fall asleep and have them wake up without him there. They were probably going to panic already, and he didn’t want to stress them out anymore than he had to. He didn’t know if their body could handle it, and he really wasn’t in a mood to start testing their limits. He’d have to figure out a way to get a dressing on their face without seeing it, and it hurt his brain to try and figure something out. 

_ CAW! _

Artur screeched loudly from their nest on Hound’s chest, demanding his attention. Elliott turned to see Hound beginning to stir, their arms twitching as they tried to start moving their hands! 

“Bloodhound!”

Heart already racing, Elliott bolted back over to his bed and knelt down beside it. Artur was fluffing up, annoyed that they were disturbing his sleep. He shooed the bird away, suffering through a beak to the back of his hand in the process. 

“W-what? Who…” 

Elliott waved his hand, trying to draw their attention. Their voice was quiet and raspy, likely sore from disuse. They turned their head, painfully slow, like their body was fighting back against them. “Hound? It’s me, Elliott. Remember me?”

“Elliott?”

He smiled, doing his best to look comforting. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re safe, there’s no one else here.”

"You… you stayed."

It wasn't a question. The disbelief in their voice shocked him, sending a chill through his body that turned his blood to ice. Their mouth was slightly open, as if they were in awe of something. 

"Y-yes? Hound, of course I stayed, what, were you expecting me to just leave you?"

"Yes."

Elliott felt tears falling down his cheeks. Hound wasn't looking at him, keeping their gaze instead firmly affixed to the end of the bed. Did they really think so little of him that they thought he’d just leave them to die? 

Overcome by something he couldn’t quite recognize, Elliott grabbed their hand in his and pressed it to his forehead. Their hands were cold and stiff as always, but they let him move them. The hours of waiting patiently had finally fully caught up to him, along with the overwhelming relief that they were okay and it tore the air from his chest. It felt like his heart was going to explode, overwhelmed by the most intense emotion he’d ever experienced. He needed them to know that he cared, that he'd stuck by them by choice, not fear of punishment. He was exhausted, his lost hours of sleep hitting him like a right hook, but he in that moment he didn’t care. Hound was awake, they were speaking to him and they were  _ alive _ . His mistake had nearly cost him everything, but this time at least, he was granted mercy. 

"Don't you  _ ever _ scare me like that again."

The rawness of his own tone frightened him, and he couldn't bear to look at them, for fear their expression would be one of anger. Normally he wouldn’t dare speak to them like that, but something in him had shoved aside his fears. Touching Hound was a huge mistake, but he'd take even being thrown down into that dark place for just a moment of this. He just needed them to know how serious he was, how sorry he was and how much of a fucking idiot he had been. 

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," he choked out, tightening his grip on their hand. "Don't make me think of what would happen if I did."

"Elliott-"

"No," he snapped, voice breaking, "No, just shut up. I don't want to hear it. Not yet. Just… just let me have a moment of this, okay? That’s all I want."

"Elliott, I'm sorry."

Elliotts head shot up, surprised to see Hound looking directly at him. They just…  _ apologized.  _ Hound of all people, had just apologized to him, without laughing about it or calling him something derogatory. 

Hound brought his hand to their lips, cold against his bare skin. Their arm was shaking slightly, but they looked up at him, the scarf still obscuring half their vision. It was enough for him to let out a hollow sob, but Hound tugged on his arms and let him lean forward to rest his head on their chest. 

"I was so scared."

"I know. You're a good boy, Elliott."

His name had never sounded so good, and their praise relaxed him a bit, taking some of the tension out of his back. He was crying much more freely now that he knew it was safe to do so. It was like breaking a dam, but this time he didn't have to face the deluge alone.

"I thought you were gonna die." 

"I would not leave you like that Kær. I have worked so hard to keep you, I would not throw that away so easily.”

Hound smelled like a hospital, and he hated it. He wished he could have taken them back to their cabin, so they could have woken to the applewood burning and the birdsong in the trees, rather than his apartment in the dirty city. He couldn’t wait to go back there, to their trips into the berry patches or Hound pointing out the curious flowers that grew in between the ferns. He was still amazed how they knew so much, and he’d take them back on their usual paths even if he had to carry them the whole way. They were stubborn enough that they’d probably walk on broken ankles, but at least that meant they couldn’t try and kick him for carrying them. Although considering it was Hound he was thinking about, they'd probably just whack him with one of their hands if he tried.

“Elliott?”

“Yeah?”

“You are getting my shirt soaked. At least put a towel down, hm?”

Elliott thought that the absurdity of it all must have been getting to him, because he couldn’t help but snort back a laugh. He could feel their chest rising and falling as they chuckled, apparently overcome by the same mysterious laugher as he was. He’d never thought anything could sound so good in his life, but there was so much more that came with that laughter. It was the reassurance that they weren’t angry, and that for once it seemed, that he’d done the right thing. 

“Elliott, why are we… here?”

He swallowed hard, not wanting the moment to end. “I couldn’t leave you at the hospital. I didn’t trust the nurses not to take off your mask. I had to fight the paramedics off, I don’t know if you remember that or not.”

“Not really, no,” they admitted, “I remember you leaving after you came back for me, but not much else. Even that is not entirely clear, though.”

“Yeah, so once they told me I was in charge of your body, I told them I’d take care of you here, where it’s safer. I had to protect the wound as best I could, b-”

Hound suddenly growled and grabbed his arm, trying to crush it with what little strength they could muster. “Did you look?”

“No!” he insisted, “N-No, I-I haven’t touched anything! You woke up before I could bandage it. I didn’t see anything, I swear!”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” they fumed, arm beginning to shake.

_ This _ was the Hound he was more familiar with. Their anger was like an old friend, but at least he knew their anger could be managed. He’d been afraid they wouldn’t react well, but at least he’d expected it.

“Hound,” he pleaded, “please, I would  _ never _ betray your trust like that! I took you out of the hospital so you could keep your secrets, not to horde them to myself.” 

“How do I know for sure?”

“I wouldn’t lie. Not to you. Not about something this serious. Look, I’ll do whatever it takes for you to believe me, but I didn’t look. I haven’t seen anything.” 

“Would you bleed for the truth?” they hissed, “I certainly don’t think so. I have no way to know how sincere you are. Your word means  _ nothing _ to me.” 

Elliott sat back and looked at Hound's bracers that sat on the floor. One of the many knives they carried was attached to them, and he didn’t dare try and grab one off of Hound. They were still out of it, which meant he might be able to pull something off if he acted quickly. 

Elliott snatched the knife from its sheath and held it up. Hound still had a firm grip on his other arm, which meant they were keeping it steady for him. Without flinching, he dragged the knife blade across his forearm, watching as a small cut opened in his flesh. It stung, but a small rivulet of blood was steadily leaking from the wound, exactly what he needed.

“Is this enough blood for you, or do you want more?”

Hound was stunned, but Elliott kept pressing. “How much more do you need, because I’ll give you however much you want. However much it’ll take for you to believe I’m telling the truth. My word doesn’t mean anything? Fine, but I know this does.” 

“No, no that’s more than enough.”

He exhaled and dropped the knife back to the carpet. Hound slid their hand down his arm, covering the wound with their fingers. They pushed on it slightly, but something told him they weren’t doing it out of a desire to hurt him. “What are you… “

“I do not want you bleeding on me, that is all.”

Elliott snorted back a laugh. “Yeah, never thought you’d say that.”

“Time and a place, Elliott.”

“Or that, either. Man, that bullet really took you out of it, huh?”

“Yes Kær, getting shot in the head will do that to a person.” 

“Ah, so you  _ are _ human.”

Hound gave him a pointed look. “It is a good thing that you are pretty.” 

“One of us has to be.” 

Hound opened their mouth to shoot back a reply, but Artur hopped back up on them and squawked, angry that he’d been ignored. Hound’s smile returned as they reached up to scratch his chest. “Well halló, little one.”

Elliott sat back, trying to ignore that Hound was still holding on to him. “Yeah, he came here soon after you did. Almost broke my damn window.” 

“Ah, he is a good bird. I knew he would be here.”

Elliott scoffed. “He’s a rude bird, is what he is. He won’t stop pecking me!”

He demonstrated by going to give them a scratch, yanking his hand back before the bird could skewer it with its beak. “See?”

Hound chuckled. “My, my, you almost sound jealous of him.” 

Before he could protest, Hound let his arm go and rested their hand on top of his head, rubbing their thumb against his scalp. Elliott froze, unsure of what to think. 

Their concussion must have been worse than he thought. First Hound was apologizing, and now they were  _ petting _ him. He’d always had a weak spot for that, but it felt almost out of character for them. It was only recently that Hound had been comfortable enough to fall asleep on him, but this seemed in a league of his own. It was nicer than he wanted it to be, but it was just more proof that they were hanging in there. He wasn’t sure if they were trying to reassure him, or if they were just trying to hold on to something. 

His mind was bursting with questions, but he didn’t want to push his luck by showering them with them all. They probably needed sleep more than anything else, and him chattering on in their ear would just worsen what was probably an already throbbing headache. They wouldn’t have to worry about their light sensitivity too much, but he couldn’t get his apartment quite as dark as the cabin during the daytime. Hound would probably be eager to go home, but he didn’t trust them to drive anywhere for quite some time. His mother hen instincts were kicking in, but Hound probably didn’t want him fussing over them too much. They still got uncomfortable when they needed help walking somewhere, and they were likely going to be bedridden for quite some time. 

Once they started to heal he could get them up walking again, but definitely not without support. He was strangely okay with this level of affection, even if it was alien. It pulled at something in his chest when he thought about their recovery, and thinks going back to the way they were before. He loved their routine, but the unexpected softness was nice. He wouldn’t be surprised if a month down the road they beat him senseless for his transgressions, but at least in the meantime he’d be safe. He still didn’t want to be breaking rules, but mostly because he didn’t want them to stress too much. He could worry about how concerned he was for them later, but now at least they needed him, and they couldn’t convince him otherwise. 

**Author's Note:**

> :D did ya miss me???
> 
> Sorry I was away for like, well over a month. I had some brain goblins to wrestle but they've been detained for the meantime since I'm actually hanging out with my beta reader/bestie in their country! Friends are a good way to wrestle brain gobbies, whoda thunk? But yeah I've been feeling like complete and utter HELL for the past like month and a half so updates might be kinda slow cuz this took a lot of my energy if we're being honest. 
> 
> Anywhomst I'm considering going to school in Wales :D I still want to like, open commissions or smth on my twitter but nobody follows me there and idk who'd commission me. Just as like backup income in case I get quarantined when I get back to Canada cuz my job involves handling infant food n whatnot. 
> 
> As usual have my plug for discord https://discord.gg/xNkTyCV boop come join us we're all cool apex fans who love dark, fucked up fiction. Seriously we have a role called corpse fuckers, so like, come party if you're Gucci.
> 
> kthxbye  
> -P


End file.
